Parallel Lives: Six Glimpses: The Pilgrim Explorer
Parallel Lives is a crossover AU (Dragon Age:Origins characters in a Mass Effect setting) that has spiraled into a major series. Six Glimpses introduces the six "Wardens" (one from each origin) and their place in the galaxy circa early ME2.
As his ship slowed down from FTL speed, Theron Mahariel was alerted by the soft ping that meant he had received an incoming message. Immediately, he keyed in the sequence to retrieve it, trusting the ship’s sophisticated VI to handle the navigation required to bring him in to his destination system. This ship was really too large to be run by a single person; he hadn’t intended to be making this voyage alone, when he first started planning it. But this was how things had turned out, and there was nothing Theron could do to change it. He trusted his VI to pick up the slack when he couldn’t cover everything personally. She had yet to let him down.
The message queue came up on Theron’s personal display, indicated that, as expected, the call that had come in while he was in FTL travel was a vid recording from Tamlen. With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, Theron started it playing.
Immediately, as the image resolved from static, he paused it to study his friend’s face, comparing it to his memories of the last message he’d received. Images of Tamlen’s face flickered in his mind’s eye: the boy he’d played with on Kahje, the earnest young man planning this grand quest to save their people, the patient growing progressively more ill as his body shut down, betraying all of their hopes and dreams.
Compared to the most recent memories, Tamlen didn’t look much changed. The pale greyish tinge to his scaled skin, while still present, was no more pronounced. His dark eyes were clear rather than clouded with pain or dulled by medication. For a moment, Theron entertained a wild hope that the hanar scientists had succeeded in finding a treatment that would delay the progression of Kepral’s. He shook his head at his own foolishness. Tamlen simply hadn’t developed any further visible signs of his disease in the weeks since his last communication. That was enough to be thankful for. There was no sense in poisoning life’s small blessings by wishing for the impossible.
Theron took a deep calming breath before pressing the button to let the message resume playing. Tamlen’s voice filled the small cockpit, cheerful and welcome, if a bit thinner than when they were younger.
“Greetings, Theron! I can’t even imagine where you’re located by now. Wherever you are, I hope you’re doing well. Out there, searching the stars, seeing new worlds every day. By Amonkira, I wish I could be there with you!”
Theron smiled at his friend’s enthusiasm, undamped by his depressing circumstances. Theron wasn’t sure if he would be so brave should their positions be reversed.
Tamlen continued on for several minutes, giving news of home, helping Theron feel connected to his people, despite the vast gulf of space that separated them. The feed flickered a couple of times, the product of Tamlen freezing the recording and picking up later. Given how winded and hoarse Tamlen was after each interruption, Theron assumed he was avoiding capturing prolonged and painful coughing spasms on video. Theron was grateful for the self-censoring. Even if it didn’t serve to hide the progression of his friend’s illness, he appreciated not having the sight fixed in his memory. He already had enough images of his failure to haunt him during dark nights alone in the void.
Deliberately grounding himself in the present moment, Theron focused on the remainder of Tamlen’s message. “But that’s enough of news on Kahje. I’m sure wherever you are and whatever you’re doing is far more exciting than sitting here watching the waves come in.
“When you have time, I’d love to hear about all of it, join you vicariously since I couldn’t do it for real. Keep enjoying the grand adventure, Theron. And remember you’re out there for all of us back here.”
The message flickered to a stop, and Theron pressed the button to save it, an unnecessary bit of sentimentality. The entirety of the message, every word and gesture, was already fixed in his memory; he would never need to replay it. But having the list was important, a tangible reminder of the stakes of his mission. No matter how Tamlen characterized it, this wasn’t an adventure. It was a quest. One with dire consequences for the entire drell race. Theron could never let himself forget what was at stake.
So he didn’t have time to wallow, especially not while he was on approach to an uncharted system. Every new system held the possibility of finding an uninhabited planet that could sustain life, a new homeworld for the drell. There was always the hope that this time Theron would finally be able to reply with a message of success, a chance for his people to have a future, rather than a dismal report with the coordinates of another failure and the meager fortune of finder’s fees for any mineral deposits he had discovered. He had to believe that the perfect planet was out there - that each planet he approached might be the one - or else he would succumb completely to the dark memories that haunted the edges of his consciousness.
“Merrill?”
The interface for the ship’s VI flickered to life in the cockpit, a realistic, if translucent, drell woman hovering a few inches off the floor. “News from home?” Her voice was slightly high-pitched but largely free of the synthetic tone common to most VIs Theron had encountered. A lot of time and credit had been put into Merrill’s programming when Tamlen’s illness progressed to the point that it became apparent that she would be Theron’s only company on his voyage.
In addition to a relatively natural appearance and voice, she had been given some of the most sophisticated interactive protocols available for a VI. When Theron didn’t respond to her initial question, she continued speaking rather than waiting patiently for new input. “I saw you received a message from Tamlen, so I thought he might have passed on something about your friends on Kahje.”
While Theron appreciated the subroutines that ensured Merrill would distract him from getting too lost in his own thoughts, there were times he wished she could do it without babbling quite so much. Still, she was superb at her designated tasks - navigation, scanning, and keeping him sane - and there was no way he’d be able to run the ship solo without her assistance.
Aware that Merrill was still waiting for an answer - and was programmed to continue nagging until she got one - Theron struggled to calm his thoughts. “Yes, Tamlen shared news from home. He’s…”
Theron wanted to say “doing well”, but the words wouldn’t form. He couldn’t bring himself to lie so blatantly, even if it was only to a VI.
He cleared his throat and pressed on. “Tamlen’s eager to hear some good news. What’s the likelihood we can give him some soon?”
“Pretty good,” Merrill chirped with an excellent facsimile of a smile. “My scans suggest the fourth planet in the Korcari system could be habitable, and I’m detecting none of the EM signatures that would indicate advanced civilization.”
“Worth checking out.” Theron nodded. “Bring us in.”
As the ship touched down on the planet’s system, Theron fastened on his breather mask. As much as he would have loved to inhale the planet’s fresh air directly after the stale, recycled air on the ship, it would be a foolish risk to take. Preliminary readings didn’t detect any obvious toxins, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was safe to breathe unprotected, especially for the fragile lungs of a drell, already weakened by prolonged exposure to the humid climate of Kahje.
Mask firmly in place, Theron opened the hatch and took his first steps out onto the new world. His hopes weren’t terribly high. Once they’d broken into the atmosphere and he’d gotten a good look at the vast expanse of jungle covering most of the planet, Theron’s heart had sunk. The steamy air that clung to every patch of exposed skin confirmed his initial suspicions. The humidity here was at least as high as Kahje. Kepral’s syndrome wouldn’t even be slowed down by the change.
Still, he dutifully took readings and samples, analyzing the soil, water, and vegetation. It was possible the moist climate was a localized phenomenon and that more arid regions existed elsewhere on the planet. When he was done collecting data, he would fly sweeps at various latitudes and longitudes looking for evidence of a desert suitable for drell colonization. It was something of a long shot, but so was this entire search. If he studied enough planets, eventually he had to find something. Otherwise, it had all been for nothing, and Theron refused to accept that possibility.
The dense foliage blocked lines of sight, reducing visibility to almost nothing. Despite being habituated to limited space shipboard, Theron was accustomed to more open vistas when he was planetside. Being closed in like this made him uncomfortable, jumpy. He kept peering around, head swiveling at every unfamiliar noise. Trying to calm himself, he took deep breaths, each one hissing through his respirator mask.
Theron crouched to gather a sample from the ground at the base of a particularly large tree, analyzing the soil’s chemical properties with his omni-tool. The results were unexpected, showing higher levels of complex synthetic chemicals than he would have expected for a pristine sylvan environment. Frowning beneath his mask, Theron repeated the scans, hoping his device wasn’t starting to malfunction. The readings came out the same the second time. He was trying to decide if that was a positive sign or not when he looked up and saw the krogan.
It was standing just across the small clearing beneath the tree, having taken advantage of Theron’s preoccupation to approach far closer than the drell was comfortable with. The large, wicked-looking shotgun cradled in the krogan’s arms didn’t improve the situation any. It wasn’t pointed anywhere in particular at the moment, but that could change quickly, and Theron didn’t like the appraising look in the krogan’s small, dark eyes.
In one fluid motion, Theron rose to his feet and drew his own weapon, a simple pistol. It felt paltry in comparison to the krogan’s heavy gun, but at such a close range a well-placed shot could do significant damage. Still, he wasn’t eager to test it against the krogan’s armor and thick hide.
The krogan seemed unimpressed, looking contemptuously at Theron’s pistol. “That is not a wise decision.” His voice was deep and rumbling.
“Simply a precaution.” Theron attempted to look confident without appearing overtly threatening.
“It is unnecessary.” The krogan smiled grimly. “And insufficient.”
Theron shrugged, keeping his shoulders loose and posture relaxed despite the tension thrumming through him. “I’ve learned to work with what I have at hand.”
“If you care to put that to the test, I would gladly assist your efforts.” The krogan raised his shotgun, holding it less casually, a clear threat.
Theron gripped his pistol tighter, weighing the relative merits of attempting to defuse the situation versus getting in the first shot. Before he could reach a decision, a third party intervened.
“Sten, this was not what we discussed.” The voice was female and close. Theron risked a glance away from the krogan. The speaker was human, although her revealing garments were clearly of asari design. She was not visibly armed, but nothing about her posture suggested fear or vulnerability.
“Plans can be altered to match circumstances.” The krogan’s shotgun barrel didn’t waver.
“Mahariel, despite how it may seem, we do not wish to harm you.”
Theron started at this unfamiliar woman’s use of his name, but he shook off his confusion quickly. It wouldn’t matter what she did or didn’t know about him if her partner started shooting. “You’d be a lot more convincing if he put his gun away.”
“You first,” the krogan - Sten, she had called him - sneered.
Theron stared back, waiting to see who would flinch first and set off the chaos.
“Foolishness.” The woman sighed. “Enough of this! ’Tis a waste of time.”
Suddenly, Theron felt his gun being pulled inexorably upwards, taken from his grip. His panic at being disarmed was slightly lessened by the blue nimbus surrounding the krogan’s weapon and lifting it also. A quick look confirmed his suspicion that the woman was responsible, a subtle glow of biotic energy emanating from her hands.
Once both Theron’s pistol and Sten’s shotgun had floated over to land gracefully at her feet, the woman spoke again. “Might we have a conversation now that I have removed the distractions?”
“We were talking.” It was difficult to read nuance in Sten’s rumbling voice, but Theron thought there might have been an edge of humor to that statement. The krogan’s face was impassive, however, so he couldn’t be sure.
The woman ignored the interruption. “I am called Morrigan. My companion is known as Sten. We sought you out to discuss a business proposition.”
Now that the guns were out of the equation, Theron was able to focus his thoughts on something beyond calculating his immediate odds of survival. This woman, Morrigan, had known his name, and now she claimed to have been looking for him specifically. There were only two possible ways she could have gotten the information. Tamlen and a handful of other old friends on Kahje were kept updated on his progress - more often by Merrill than by Theron himself because she could deliver bad news without feeling guilty or ashamed. But he doubted any of them would have given such sensitive information to a stranger. Also, if Morrigan was in contact with any of his friends, she should have started dropping names by now to put him at ease.
The other option was the more likely one, and Theron couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized the possibility sooner. He was partially funding his expedition by selling data on the planets he explored to an information broker. Belatedly, he realized that he was inadvertently providing risky personal information along with it. Morrigan must be one of the broker’s customers; he hoped she had paid well to invade his privacy like this.
Theron cross his arms and tilted his head at Morrigan in a gesture humans would typically interpret as casual arrogance. “Why would I be interested in doing favors for people who threaten me?”
“I said nothing of a favor.” Morrigan’s gave a dismissive sniff. “I wish to discuss a mutually beneficial arrangement. ‘Twould be in your interest to hear me out.”
“I’m listening.”
“Sten and I are in need of transportation. Due to unfortunate circumstances, we cannot leave the planet according to our original plan.”
“The traitorous cowards betrayed their word and left us stranded.” Sten’s teeth showed in a furious snarl that convinced Theron what he’d seen earlier had been mild annoyance at best.
“I’m not running a shuttle service.” Theron shook his head. “I have my own plans, and they don’t include detours to drop off passengers.”
Morrigan raised a hand to forestall him. “We could assist you with those plans. You seek a planet fit for colonization. I can provide you with a list of habitable worlds. Would that not speed your search?”
“Not if they’re already occupied.” Theron shrugged, unimpressed by her offer. The humid, clammy air clinging to his skin made him edgy and disinclined to be charitable. “Anywhere listed in the databases as habitable has already been claimed unless there’s a damned good reason no one wants it. I’m not looking for a turf war or galactic cast-offs.”
“There are other databases. I am offering worlds that are habitable but uncharted.” Morrigan sounded disdainful, almost bored. Despite her human blood, it was the universal tone of an asari exhibiting patience with the narrow understanding of a short-lived race. Theron bristled under her condescension.
Possibly sensing his growing resistance, Sten interrupted. “We seek Prothean artifacts.”
Morrigan’s lips pursed in distaste. Perhaps she hadn’t intended to reveal that information yet, but she didn’t bother to deny it. “I have records of Prothean colonies that have not been explored in the modern era. These worlds supported life fifty thousand years ago. Is that not better than searching at random?”
Theron had been poised to leave, abandoning his pistol if he had to, but this changed things. He settled his weight back on his heels. “What would you expect in return?”
“Transportation.” Morrigan’s posture relaxed as she laid out her offer. “We wish to travel to these worlds also. For our own reasons. While you take biome readings and test environmental factors, Sten and I shall gather artifacts and data from the ancient sites. You need not be involved. Simply give us time to find what we need.”
“What sort of time are we discussing? I’m not going to wait around while you carry out a full archeological dig.”
Morrigan waved a hand dismissively. “We can agree upon a reasonable length of time to spend on each planet. All that matters is that you inform us should your patience run out.”
“Instead of leaving us stranded like our last ‘business partners’ did.” Sten’s voice was laden with contempt.
Morrigan’s face grew dark. “Indeed. ‘Tis why we sought someone driven by purpose rather than profit.”
“All the credits in the galaxy wouldn’t be enough to sell out your people’s future.” Sten clenched his fists, armor creaking with the strain.
Theron gave a simple nod of agreement. The krogan clearly understood his position. That sense of kinship, as much as Morrigan’s logical arguments, made his decision.
“You have a deal.” Theron pulled up his omnitool and knelt to gather a final soil sample. “Give back my pistol, let me finish this analysis, and we’ll discuss the details back on my ship.”